Well, I know that has been a week since I posted, but I have a REALLY good excuse!
Last Tuesday, I picked Bo up from school and began drinking a nasty concoction of iced tea and magnesium citrate. The bottle claimed to have a pleasing lemony taste. I say it tasted like lemon-scented Pine Sol and if you find that pleasing, than I will not be accepting beverages offered by you.
Anyway, the point of my nauseating cocktail was to give myself a good cleansing. Apparently, doctors like doing surgery on people who have absolutely nothing in their systems whatsoever except remnants of some compound that tastes like floor cleaner.
So my excuse is that I had surgery.
See. I told you it was a good one.
And I know that I might could have told more people (including my loyal blog following), but that would have required me leaving the state of denial that I was camped in.
It was nothing major. I just have a warm and inviting set of insides and an unwanted ovarian cyst set up residence and had no intention of leaving on his own. (And I say "his own" because my friend, Julie, suggested we name it and we picked Napoleon because it was relatively small but destructive.)
Anywho . . . it was not major surgery (and my doctor wasn't concerned that it was cancer or anything else), the cyst was just not going to do anything but continue to grow and cause pain and eventually, potentially do some damage . . . just some minor, laparoscopic surgery that required--dunh, dunh, dunh--me going under general anesthesia!! I am almost 35 years old and I have NEVER been under anesthesia. And let me tell you that it is ONLY because I was told I really had no other options that I did it. Ask everyone who knows me that knew about the surgery, I begged, pleaded, connived, cried, and begged some more to have it done with an epidural or local or not at all.
Pain does NOT phase me. Someone knocking me out and sticking a tube down my throat does.
Call me a control freak. (Or just a freak, whatever.) I DON'T CARE! I did not (do not) want to be knocked out.
I had a colonoscopy COMPLETELY AWAKE AND UNSEDATED TO AVOID ANY SEMBLANCE OF BEING KNOCKED OUT MEDICALLY!!
I have had 4 children and may or may not have lied to one of my nurses about the state of my epidural when the possibility of an emergency c-section came up. (I ended up NOT needing one, so no worries.)
All that to say, I was less than excited about the surgery. Through lots of prayer, Bible verse recitation, encouragement, and the fact that sooner or later, it had to happen, I managed to show up thoroughly cleansed and surprisingly calm Wednesday for surgery.
The talented and sweet Bryan Fuller walked Josh and I through the procedure . . . I have 3 incisions (I think, obviously I was more intrigued by what the anesthesiologist was going to say) and they are mostly painless. He did a great job because my biggest complaint was my throat. (Although it did hurt some when I laughed or sneezed.)
I remember very little once they gave me the happy juice . . . something about the operating room looking fine, asking the recovery nurse if I had been nice and if I could have some Diet Coke in my IV, sweetly asking Josh to be quiet, answering, "I'm nauseous and hot" to every official person who spoke to me or checked on me, and I vaguely remember answering my phone that night when Bryan called to check on me. I wish I knew what I said to him. (Or maybe I don't.)
My cyst was the size of a golf ball. Sweet Napoleon. And I have pictures of the surgery that I have debated posting on here. In the end, I think I won't so those of you disgusted by all things ovarian will return, but I think they are pretty cool.
Josh, my parents, and my friends have been amazing the last week bringing food, taking care of the kids, and allowing me to rest. Yesterday, I resumed a fairly normal routine (minus working out, I will wait a couple more days for that) and did well. I am thankful for my health and the fact that I am able to take care of my family. Besides dreading the surgery and the anesthesia and the subsequent nausea, the hardest part for me was asking for help. I like being self-sufficient. I love to help others (it makes me so happy!) BUT I am not as good at letting others help me. I think it's a combination of pride and not wanting to bug anyone or put them out.
Well. There you go. That's why I've been out of touch with the blog world. And tomorrow, I will make you wish I was still MIA when I evaluate, commentate and diseratate (ok, so I made that word up) the most dramatic and shocking Bachelor Pad finale!
9 hours ago